


Her Name is Rio

by Freezey



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Rio 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freezey/pseuds/Freezey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The effect Retirement, Ryan and Rio have on Michael Phelps between 2012 and 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Name is Rio

**Author's Note:**

> Because this is sort of a sequel to [49 problems ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/715818), it assumes Michael and Ryan got together in February 2012. I don’t think you need to have read 49 problems first, but if you want my version of how they became Phlochte, that’s where it is.  
> This fic started from [this picture ](http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/CRTeuAqWG_3/Laureus+Visit+Rocinha+2013+Laureus+World+Sports/lJGx7mHPFzH/Michael+Phelps)
> 
> Warnings: Language, Sex etc. Plus a fragmented time line, hopefully it’s not too confusing, and also brief but graphic Duran Duran lyrics. There’s no separate warning tag for cheesy 80’s pop but I feel like there should be so considered yourself warned.

**Rio De Janeiro, August 6th 2016**

“Her name is Rio and she dances on the sands… “

Michael hasn’t managed to hit a single note yet, but the girl in his arms doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

“…just like that river twisting through a dusty land…”

She winds her arms tightly around his neck and allows him to spin her around the room.

“And when she something….something…” The spinning starts to slow down “…she something….something….” Michael frowns “uh…sorry I can’t remember the rest.”  He smiles sheepishly and stumbles backwards “and also I’m kind of dizzy, so  we should probably…” The girl shakes her head, but laughs as they fall backwards onto the bed. She smiles contentedly as Michael pulls her tight against his chest.

Michael waits until her eyes fall shut before he lifts up his left arm to check his watch, his shoulders slumping when he sees what the time is. At the movement the girl stirs, lifting her head to look at Michael with anxious eyes.

“Yeah.” He exhales “I’m sorry, I have to go” He brushes the hair back from her face “But I’ll be back soon and…next time it will be different. I promise.” He hesitates for just a second “I’m going to tell Ryan.”

The girl stiffens and her gaze drops to the floor, her reaction reminding Michael that she’s heard this all before.

“I know. I’m sorry” Michael sounds pained “Please don’t look like that baby” He whispers into her hair.

He pulls away when the phone in his pocket starts to vibrate. He’s already ignored one call from the taxi company and the driver outside would be well within his rights to leave. There’ll be hell to pay if Michael doesn’t make Ryan’s first heat.

“Listen to me, I don’t want you worrying about Ryan, okay?”  Michael focuses intently on big brown eyes that made him fall so hard so fast “I’m not even sure he’s going to be that surprised to be honest. I think on some level he knows this has been coming for a while” His rambling is more for his benefit than hers and when her eyes start to glisten Michael has to look away.

“Ok. I’m just. I’m gonna go” He says quietly, but he can’t resist pulling her close one more time and gently kissing her cheek.  She tries to turn her head away but all it does is allow Michael to whisper right into her ear “I love you baby”

Michael backs out the room, not taking his eyes off the girl until he absolutely has to. He takes the stairs three at time but regrets rushing when he steps out into the sweltering heat of Rio de Janeiro in August. He shields his eyes against the sunlight and looks up and down the street a couple of times before he spots a man waving both arms in wide erratic circles to try and get his attention.

“Where to Sir?”  The driver asks once Michael has fought his way down the busy street and slipped into the back of the mercifully air conditioned car.

“Olympic Park. The Aquatics Centre please”

The driver studies his passenger in the rear view intently and after a couple of seconds his face lights up in recognition

“Hey, you’re Michael Phelps!”

People have been telling Michael this for years, but he still hasn’t figure out what the appropriate response is. Is he meant to be as surprised as the driver is by the revelation? Or is it an invitation to try and guess the drivers name back? Is it rude to point out that he doesn’t suffer from any conditions associated with short term memory loss and therefore does not rely upon the kindness of strangers regularly reminding him of his own name?

“Yeah, hi” Michael opts for, adding an awkward wave and wishing the car had a screen to separate him from the driver.

“You’re here to swim?” The driver mimes swimming for Michael, presumably because he’s under the impression that if Michael struggles with remembering his own name he might appreciate visual aids to jog his memory on other stuff too.

“Nope. Just to watch”

“Oh.” The driver looks disappointed, a reaction Michael’s become accustomed to provoking over the last four years. He leans his head against his window and closes his eyes, allowing the image of the girl he left behind to fill his mind. Michael smiles to himself, thinking about his plans for the next time he sees her. Between the motion of the car and the white noise of a bustling city, the day dream morphs into a light sleep.

“First time Michael?”

Michael’s eyes fly open abruptly “hmmm?”

“First time to Rio.” The car veers alarming close to the pavement as the driver takes his hand from the steering wheel to make a sweeping gesture indicating the city around them.

 Michael pushes himself back up the in his seat and rolls his shoulders. “Uh...no. I’ve been here a few times actually”

**Rio de Janeiro, October 30th 2013 (Visit One)**

Michael is done.

He’d swum his last race, hung up his speedo, his career was over. He was going to travel, take up golf, maybe try cage diving.

A model media training student, Michael had turned saying the same thing in different ways into something of an art form during his career, but since announcing his retirement he’s been forced to step his game even further.

He has no earthly idea why the news has been met with such widespread disbelief but the questions about Rio and whether or not he might make a comeback have become so monotonous that he’s started secretly hoping someone will ask him about the bong picture again, just to mix it up a bit.

And so it’s fair to say he’s less than thrilled that today, having just pulled on a Speedo for the first time since London, to be standing in front of a bank of photographers. By the edge of a pool.  In Rio. His agent is such a fucking troll.

The clinic is the final item on the itinerary of what has turned out to be a miserable trip. Over the last two days the beaches at Ipanema have provided an incredibly beautiful backdrop for some of the worse golf Michael has ever played in his life, even though he’s been working with Hank on and off for a couple of months now.

In fact it had been so bad that at the end of the first day Michael had called his agent, Peter, to try and establish exactly how much editorial input Octagon had insisted on when the contract for the Haney Project had been drawn up. However much to Michael’s annoyance, Peter hadn’t seemed overly concerned about the potential for his client to humiliate himself on national television, providing Michael makes sure he humiliates himself in a way which is consistent with the expectations of various companies he has endorsement deals with. This had led neatly into a lecture on how to behave at today’s clinic, which only served to get Michael’s back up even further.

The importance of clinics such as todays had been clearly laid out in Octagon’s _‘5 Year Plan for the Strategic Development of the Michael Phelps Brand (2011-2016)’_. Michael’s copy of the report had been sent to him more as a courtesy than because anyone actually expected him to read it, although in fairness Peter had taken the time to call him with a helpful executive summary. “It’s about trying to make you more personable.” He had explained “Because let’s face it Michael, most of the time you come across as a little bit of dick.”

The clinics are supposed to counteract this perception, because apparently people are much more likely to buy the clubs Michael uses, or the watch he wears or the sandwiches he eats if they can be convinced he’s someone who can tolerate spending a few hours around children.

 Michael does like kids. Sort of. Really more as a theoretical concept than a practical reality. He struggles to relate to them because in his experience the defining characteristics of a typical child are completely at odds with his own personality; kids are imaginative and unpredictable where Michael is a methodical creature of habit, they’re full of energy while Michael is inherently lazy and they tend to be small and fragile to Michael’s big and clumsy. It’s on this basis that he point blank refuses to hold anyone’s baby – he doesn’t have a reputation for being a dropper without good reason.

The clinic itself only lasts for a couple of hours, but then there’s the press and the sponsors and the autographs and all the other crap that Michael can't stand and which today prevent him from getting back to his hotel until well into the evening.  The friends he’s travelled with insist on taking him out to drown his sorrows and although Michael’s not feeling particularly sociable, he feels it would be unfair to pass final judgement on Rio without experiencing the city from the perceptive of someone who is very drunk, so he agrees.

Michael’s standard progression between stone cold sober and completely shit faced more closely resembles the flipping of a switch than a gentle downhill slide and tonight is no exception - one minute he’s sulking into his beer and the next he’s crying with laughter at one of his friends (the one Michael brings on these trips primarily to ensure there will always be someone on the golf course who plays worse than him) who is currently demonstrating some of the techniques Hank has been teaching them using a lime and a mop he’s stolen from behind the bar.

The demonstration comes to a premature end when the unamused Barman sternly retrieves his mop, but Michael’s seen enough to be left with the need to wipe tears from his eyes before he can steal another glance at the screen behind the bar. Despite not understanding a word of Portuguese, he’s been watching the local sports station on and off all night. The current show’s offering of clips highlighting some of the more comedic moments from recent sporting events in combination with  a studio furnished with couches plus a couple of attractive, laid back presenters has led Michael to deduce he’s watching some kind of magazine-style-light-entertainment-sports-news-type-thing.

Once he’s blinked enough times to sufficiently clear his vision, he sees the two presenters doubled over with laughter as they watch the clip that’s being played on the TV screen sandwiched between the two couches. The warm buzz that had settled over Michael courtesy of the alcohol disappears instantly when he identifies the footage in question as coming from ESPN’s College Game Day show.

When Michael fails to respond to either of his friend’s attempts to get his attention, they both follow his gaze to where Ryan’s face fills the screen and Michael catches them exchange a nervous glance out of the corner of his eye. He hasn’t told anybody about what happened between him and Ryan, but these guys are two of his closest friends, the ones he spends the most time with, so it’s hardly surprising that they’ve joined the dots between the sudden and very noticeable lack of Ryan and the general funk Michael’s been in since the Olympics.

And so because they’re his friends and because, Michael supposes, they therefore feel it’s their duty to convince him he’s dodged a bullet, they make a big show of laughing their asses off when Ryan picks Auburn to win the LSU-Texas game.

“What a moron” One friend chokes out through exagerated laugher while slapping Michael’s back

“Leave it” Michael says in a flat voice he barley recognises as his own.

“Come on Mike…”His friend persists “he’s a douche!”

Michael flinches on reflex before he’s able to remind himself he’s not supposed to care what people say about Ryan anymore.

“Seriously, it’s not like you even have to know shit to be on this show” The second friend chips in “Anyone has a fifty fifty shot, unless you pick a team that isn’t playing!”

His friends high five each other above his head and Michael tightens his grip on his glass. He gets that they’re only trying to make him feel better, but Michael isn’t hurting because Ryan read the wrong line off a script and the well-meant but ultimately misguided show of solidarity isn’t helping. All it does is reinforce the divide that now exists between him and Ryan.

“He’s not…he just doesn’t interview well” Michael mutters into his glass “Like you don’t need to be a dick about it”

 “Just saying bro” The first friends slings an arm around Michael’s shoulder “Like we have no idea what he did to you, but-”

“I fucking told you to _leave it_ ” Michael snaps, shrugging his friends away and shoving his bar stool backwards with so much force it falls over.

“Whoa, calm down, MP”

“You fucking….” Michael shakes his head and points at the screen “I’d love to see one of you two try that. You just. You have no fucking clue”

Michael’s ignores his friend’s attempts to placate him as he storms out the bar. He ducks into the alleyway at the side of building to get away from the people milling around on the street outside and slams his fist into the wall in frustration. 

He’s angry. Angry with Ryan for being dick, angry with his friends for saying Ryan’s a dick, and increasingly he’s angry with himself for being angry about both those things.

Once he’s calmed down a little, he pulls his baseball cap down as far as it will go and walks back to the hotel, his frustration quick to resurface on the couple of occasions he’s gets lost.  When he eventually steps inside the lobby the clock above the reception desk informs him that its 5:20am and just as Michael’s making plans to sleep the day away he bitterly recalls the 9:00am flight preventing him from doing so.

He shuffles across the marble floor to join a man in a suit waiting by the bank of elevators, who does a double take when he sees Michael. The man untucks the newspaper from under his arm and holds it out to Michael while he pats down his pockets for a pen. With all the elevators several falls above and offering no immediate escape, Michael reluctantly takes the paper and scrawls his name in the white space under the front page article. He tries to hand the paper back but the man shakes his head and motions for Michael to turn it over. On the back page there’s a huge photo of Michael taken at the previous day’s clinic above the headline ‘Rio _2016_?’

This city, which was already on its last warning, is now officially just fucking with him.

When he gets back to his room he grabs his bag and heads right back out, passing up the opportunity to catch a couple of hours of sleep in favour of going straight to the airport.  All he wants to do now is get the fuck out of Rio and never come back.

 

 

**Rio De Janeiro, August 6th 2016**

 

Following a terrifying journey through the city which Michael swears has taken years off his life, he makes it to the aquatics centre just in time for the third 400 IM heat.

Ryan swam in the first.

Not overly enamoured with the idea of joining Ryan’s family in the stands for the remainder of the session, Michael is instead sitting on an overturned box at the side of the warm up pool absently twisting his wedding band while he waits for Ryan to finish swimming down.

When Ryan does get out of the water he keeps his head down and makes a beeline for the locker room and Michael has intercept his path just to get his attention.

“Hey man” Michael says grabbing hold of Ryan’s arm to make him stop. Ryan looks up, his face a mixture of surprise, confusion and annoyance

“What you doing in here?”

Michael shrugs “I wanted to see you”

Ryan is nonplussed “Could have seen me in the other pool if you’d showed up on time”

“I know, my thing overran and then it took forever to get here” Michael cringes at how lame his excuses sound “I’m really sorry babe”

 “Doesn’t matter” Ryan mumbles using his foot to disperse a pool of water that’s formed at his feet “It was only a heat”

Michael grabs hold of Ryan’s wrist “It does matter” He says firmly “And like it won’t happen again, I’ve got nothing else ‘til you’re done.”

Ryan eyebrows shoot up “Like… _nothing_ nothing?” he says incredulously

Michael grins and shakes his head “Nope” 

Octagon had been receiving pitches from media outlets looking to secure Michael’s services for Rio since before the flame had been put out in London. Peter had painstakingly screened the multitude of offers, only passing on the ones that looked like they might have potential, but Michael had ended up turning down every single one anyway.

Without times of his own to keep track of anymore, Michael had got into the habit of memorising Ryan’s, and he’d known for a while that there was a good chance Rio could deliver everything Ryan had wanted so badly from London. If 2016 was finally going to be Ryan’s time then Michael wanted him to have the spotlight to himself.

“So while I’m on the grind your lazy ass is on vacation. Fucking typical” Ryan concludes. He acts like he’s hard done by but Michael can tell he’s secretly pleased. “If I wanted a trophy husband I could have found someone a whole lot better looking than you”

“Fuck you Ry” Michael says amicably “and just for the record watching you swim is no vacation”

In Nebraska a few weeks earlier Michael had, for the first time in sixteen years, doubted whether he had it in him to make it though Olympic trials. Each time Ryan had climbed on to the block Michael had felt like he was taking a step closer to either a heart attack of a psychotic break, possibly both. Debbie and Hilary had sat on either side of him at every race, both of them wearing expressions that had been entirely too smug for Michael’s liking.

“How the fuck did you get in anyway?” Ryan asks as he wraps a towel around his waist. Michael sheepishly holds up the pass around his neck for Ryan to inspect.

“Ricky Berens?”

While loitering outside the competitor’s entrance debating the feasibility of working the goat angle with his limited command of the Portuguese language, Michael had spotted a few of his former team mates leaving and had managed to coerce Ricky into lending him his credentials along with his team USA jacket.

“He owes me, and just like…” Michael blushes “I really wanted to see you”

Ryan takes a step closer and kicks Michael’s leg “Wanted to see you too”

A flurry of movement in the background catches Michael’s attention and he glances over Ryan’s shoulder to see someone waving at him enthusiastically form the other side of the deck. Michael smiles and raises his hand in acknowledgement, causing Ryan to spin round to see who he’s waving to. When he turns back to Michael he’s scowling.

“Fucking crazy South African” Ryan mutters

Michael rolls his eyes “For Fucks sake Ryan. Let. It. Go.”

“I’m just saying… Try not to be like too upset when the president of the Michael Phelps fan clubs gets his ass handed to him later on” Ryan says petulantly

“Be nice”

“I am nice. And I’m going to beat him”

“I know” Michael leans in and quickly presses his lips to Ryan’s “I’ll be watching”

**Gainesville, October 2013**

 

Michael tilts his head to the left. Carter takes a step to the right.

Michael frowns. He shuffles himself up the sofa in the opposite direction, only to be immediately mirrored by Carter who takes two steps to the left, continuing to block Michael’s view of the TV.

This is, unsurprisingly, all Ryan’s fault. Half an hour earlier Ryan had, very vocally, promised Carter a long walk down by the lake so that ‘Uncle Mike’ could watch the Ravens take on the Packers in peace, however moments before kick-off Ryan had abandoned his dog to take a call on his cell. That was when Carter had turned on Michael, apparently deciding that if he wasn’t going to get his walk, Michael wasn’t going to get his game. So far his tactics have included stepping on the remote, barking over the commentary, knocking over Michael’s beer and now blocking his view.

There’s actually a very straightforward solution to the problem – Michael could just sit up he and then he would easily be able to see over the dog, rather than having to peer round him from his horizontal position on the couch. The tiny flaw in this plan is that the Ravens are already ten points down and showing no signs of making an immediate improvement and Michael feels strongly that wallowing in the depths of the couch is the only appropriate response to the situation.

Michael closes his eyes in despair when Green Bay adds another field goal to their points tally in the dying seconds of the first quarter and he ends up dozing off. When he wakes up moments later his view of the TV is still being obscured but this time by Ryan and not Cater. Michael looks up from the couch with a scowl on his face.

“What’s the score?” Ryan asks gingerly. Michael can only shake his head by way of response because saying it out loud is too painful.

Ryan winces “Sorry babe” He sits down on the arm of couch and wriggles around until he’s sandwiched between the couch and Michael’s head. Michael engages in lot of dramatic sighing while his head is being jostled about, but once Ryan’s in position and working his fingers against Michael’s scalp he sighs contentedly and lets his eyes close for a second time.

When it becomes apparent that no-one’s going to be moving anytime soon, Carter pads over and slumps down dejectedly next to couch. He stares at Michael in a way that makes it very clear who he holds responsible for the latest disappointing development.

“Your dog hates me” Michael says sounding particularly pathetic because he’s feeling sorry for himself.

Ryan scoffs “You don’t hate anyone do you boy?” he coos at Carter, who rests his head on his paws and whines softly. Ryan pulls his hand out of Michael’s hair and goes to pet Carter and Michael starts to whine.

Ryan rolls his eyes “You’re both as bad as each other” he complains while tangling his left hand into Michael’s hair and continuing to pet Carter with his right. This solution doesn’t really work for Michael either, because Ryan isn’t quite capable of co-ordinating his hands to carry out the two subtly different tasks simultaneously, meaning his fingers keep digging into Michael’s scalp with way too much force.

Michael bats Ryan’s hand away and turns over, craning his neck back so he’s looking into Ryan’s face

“Who were you on the phone too?”

“Oh, right” Ryan says, remembering “Ricky”

Michael has to think for a second “Berens?”

“Uh huh”

“What did he want?”

“Wellllll…”Ryan begins slowly “Him and Rebecca are having this baby”

“I already knew that” Michael mutters, rapidly losing interest in the conversation as the game restarts

“Right. But what you don’t know-”  Ryan says, excitement mounting in his voice “is that they asked us to be Godparents”

Michael turns back from the TV and looks up at Ryan genuinely perplexed

“ _Why_?”

 “I don’t know-” Ryan looks exasperated “-maybe because we’re like their friends and we’re good with babies”

Michael raises his eyebrows

“I’m good with babies” Ryan corrects “And I don’t know…” He shrugs “Maybe they figured so long as they’re breeding like the ultimate swimmer they should go all in and-”

 “I’m not teaching it to swim” Michael cuts in firmly

“But dude, that’s like your thing now” Ryan protests “The clinics-”

“S’different” Baltimore have just forced a turnover and Michael doesn’t feel the need to elaborate further. Ryan rolls his eyes but takes the hint and stays quiet, content for the moment to lavish his attention on Carter.

The Ravens string together a series of first downs which progress them eighty yards up the field. With each completed pass Michael inches closer to the television until Baltimore are just seven yards out and he’s hanging precariously over the edge of the couch, bracing his hand against the floor for support.

“So d’ya wanna?” Ryan pipes up just before the third down

“Want to what?” Michael asks irritability without taking his eyes off the screen

“Be a Godparent” Ryan pauses a second before adding softly “With me”

Michael’s stomach tightens. Baltimore cross the line for the touchdown and it barely even registers. He turns to look at Ryan and finds him focusing intently on the spot he’s scratching above Carter’s left ear.

“You’re sure that they want both of us?” Michael glances at Ryan quickly “Like together” He clarifies

Ryan nods and clears his throat “Pretty sure yeah”

Michael’s aware of his arm has vibrating and it takes him a second to work out it’s because Ryan’s left leg is bouncing up and down below it.

“Does that sound like something…you’d be okay with?” Ryan asks cautiously when Michael doesn’t respond straight away.

The prospect of playing symbolic role in the life of baby Berens hadn’t exactly captured Michael’s imagination, but Ryan suggesting they sign up for what is effectively an eighteen year commitment, _together_ , is something he can definitely get on board with. He uses the hand that’s resting on the floor to push himself into a sitting position and smiles at the surprise which flickers through Ryan’s eyes when Michael takes the unprecedented step of muting the television mid game.

“Dude, yes” He says grinning kind of manically “Like, of course”

It’s the most extensive conversation they’ve ever had the status of their relationship, even though Michael’s been thinking about their future for a little while now. He feels stupidly relieved at finding out they’re both on the same page. 

They go back to watching the game and Carter, who is basically a lap dog in a Doberman’s body, takes the opportunity to avail himself of Ryan’s recently vacated lap. Baltimore are pushing hard for a second touchdown and Michael doesn’t give any further consideration to what he’s just signed up for until the end of the half.

“So this whole Godparent thing” He begins halfway through the first commercial break, pulling Ryan’s feet into his lap. "Do we like… have to teach it about the Bible and stuff?”

“Fuck, I hope not” Ryan picks up the remainder of Michael’s beer and downs a mouthful before handing it over “I think mostly we just have to like… show up at the baptism and remember it’s birthdays and I guess we should probably visit a few times”

“That’s it?” Michael’s pleasantly surprised. The reality is that Ryan would probably have made him go to the baptism regardless and it’s not as though LA’s a bad place to spend some time.

“Yeah, I think so” Ryan chews his lip thoughtfully “I guess we might have to like look after it if they both, you know, die”

 

 Michael freezes, the beer bottle inches from his mouth “Seriously?”

“Well…like not always, but sometimes that’s the deal, yeah” Ryan takes in the horrified expression on Michael’s face and frowns “Would that really be so bad?”

“ _Yes_!” Michael cries, wishing he’d managed to be a little less transparent when he sees the disappointment on Ryan’s face. He regroups and immediately tires to detract from his initial reaction. “So you’re saying you want Ricky and Rebecca to die?” He jokes “Harsh bro” Michael’s laughter is forced and Ryan doesn’t join in.

 “You don’t want kids” Ryan says simply. Michael can feel his face getting hot

“That’s not…Like I don’t...I’m not saying…” Michael stammers “I guess I’m just not sure if…It’s kinda hard to picture myself being a dad, you know?”

Ryan nods, but his face is blank and he’s staring at the floor. He ignores Carter when he paws insistently at his arm, trying to get Ryan to resume the petting that had stopped midway through Michael’s rambling.

Michael shifts uncomfortably, shooting quick sideways glances at Ryan as he tries to think of something to say. It’s not like disagreeing with Ryan is anything new - the huge number of differences between them in combination with a shared stubborn streak means that they argue. A lot. But their arguments don’t tend to deviate from a fairly standard pattern - they yell, slam stuff, sulk, very occasionally there will be some sort of apology and invariably it culminates in make-up sex. This time Ryan isn’t sticking to the script and Michael had no idea what he’s supposed to do with his non reaction.

“Is…Do you like want to talk about this?” He asks awkwardly. The question snaps Ryan out of his trance like state and he looks at Michael like he’s crazy

“Dude, _No”_ Ryan laughs off the suggestion and punches Michael in the arm and then flashes him an overly bright smile “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we’re…just forget about it” He gently pushes Carter out of his lap and stands up.

“Ry wait…” Michael pleads. Ryan leans down and kisses him quickly.

 “We’re good babe” Ryan’s tone is genuine but his eyes are sad and his words do little to reassure Michael “I gotta take my boy for his walk anyways”

The front door closes and Michael watches Justin Tucker kick a field goal which puts the Ravens in front for the first time, but within five minutes of Ryan leaving he’s switched the game off, no longer able to focus even with his now dog free view of the screen. He sinks back down into the couch and stares up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation into something he can make sense of.

The only conclusion he reaches is that maybe there are still a few pages between him and Ryan after all.

**Rio De Janeiro, March 2013 (Visit Two)**

 

The lifelong embargo Michael placed on future trips to Rio lasts for approximately five months.

He’s only been in the city for a few hours, but already his second visit is looking much more promising than his first. For starters, instead of sucking at golf he’s here to pick up an award for being exceptionally outstandingly excellent (or something to that affect) at swimming. And then there’s Ryan - who hadn’t been speaking to Michael the last time he was here, but this time around has called Michael so many times since he left Florida yesterday that its borders on harassment.

But not everything’s changed – a clinic is still a clinic and kids still make him nervous. As Michael paces up and down by the edge of the pool he does his best to ignore the curious stares coming from some of kids in the group currently being shepherded toward him by volunteers from the Rochina centre.

Michael doesn’t really blame the kids for their curiosity, on the flight over Drew (a rep from his agency – they still don’t trust him to travel alone), had warned him that a lot had been made of this particular visit.  He appreciates that the whole _Greatest Olympian of All Time_ thing isn’t necessarily the easiest concept for little kids to wrap their heads around, and he can’t say he’s all that surprised when some of them show up expecting to meet some kind of superhero.

But the way they’re watching him is freaking him out - it’s like they’re waiting for him to _do_ something… which would be fine, except Michael’s having a hard time imaging the emergency scenario where it would be imperative for someone to use all four strokes to swim across a 400 metre body in just over four minutes. This is probably for the best, because even if such a situation were to arise it’s a task that would be far better suited to Ryan - 400 IM times aside, Michael thinks Ryan would make a much better superhero than him. For one thing he already owns a pair of sneakers that look like they belong to the Green Lantern and there’s no contest when it comes to which one of them would look hotter in a cape.

Fortunately on this particular occasion, the pool behind Michael is only 20 metres long and the only other person in it is Chad LeClos, who is unlikely to need recusing by either Michael or Ryan.

Someone puts a microphone in Michael’s hand and he dutifully works his way through the talk he’s given so many times he can recite it from memory. Once he done, the kids line up at the edge of the pool and, for the first time ever, Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit excited at the prospect of getting in with them.

Maybe it's because he’s the most relaxed in been in over ten years, or it could have to do with Chad being there to deflect some of the attention away from him, but Michael suspects the real reason he’s looking forward to the second half of the session is that these kids are younger than the average clinic group and he’s going to get to see some of them experience being in the water for the first time.

The effect created by adding children to water hasn’t yet ceased to amaze Michael. The pool has a way of amplifying everything – their voices get louder, their smiles get bigger and their antics, unbelievably, get even crazier. The kids get into the pool with varying degrees of confidence and style and look to the Olympians for instruction.

 Of the two of them, Chad is the naturally gregarious character and the kids take to him straight away, so Michael allows himself to hang back a bit and observe. He searches for a couple kids who’d stood out to him on the deck earlier because they’d been a lot more reserved than the others. He has a much harder time locating them in the pool and he’s pleased to discover it’s because now they’re just as engaged the other kids, splashing around and joining in with the games.

Watching the way the water seems to strip them of their inhabitations takes Michael back to the many hours of his own childhood spent at Meadowbrook. He wonders if any of these kids will come to see the pool in the same way he did – as not just a place to swim but also a somewhere to belong, almost a safe haven.

After Michael and Chad have raced each other enough times to allow each kid a turn at holding onto one of their necks, they return to the locker room to get changed ahead of the final item on the agenda - the presentation of medals to all the kids who’ve taken part.

When Michael steps out of the shower the towel he’s using to dry his hair prevents him from hearing the faint sound emanating from his locker until he’s right on top of it. In an effort to find his cell quickly he empties the contents of his backpack straight out onto the floor, but he still isn’t quick enough to stop Ryan’s ring tone from cutting out while he’s still rummaging through his stuff with his foot. When does locate the cell hehas six missed calls, all from Ryan. It starts to ring again while he’s still reading the display.

“Hey babe”

“You didn’t tell me he was gonna be there” Ryan greets with an accusatorial tone

“Who?”

“Chad ‘Michael is my hero’ LeClos”

 “Jesus Ryan, _really?””_ Michael slumps down onto a nearby bench and sighs “How did you even know he- _”_

“Twitter”  Ryan snaps “Is he there right now?”

“Umm…”

“I fucking _knew_ it” Ryan seethes “Fucking bastard. What are you doing?”

“We’re just getting changed for the-”

“He’s watching you get changed?!”

“He’s not watc-”

“Tell him you have a boyfriend” Ryan demands.

“I’m hanging up on you now”

“Wait!” Ryan cries

“ _What_?” Michael sandwiches the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he can put his shorts on.

“If he asks you to go cage diving again, Michael this is important, I want you to say no”

“ _Ryan_ ” Michael warns

“You’ll die” Ryan says solemnly

“Ryan, I’ve gotta get back out there. I’ll call you later”

Ah he hangs up Michael risks a sideways glance across the locker room and he blushes furiously when he catches Chad shaking his head and smiling to himself. Michael pulls his shirt over his head and hastily shoves everything back into the locker before proceeding to more or less sprint out of the locker room, colliding with a crying child in the process.

He frantically looks around the deck for somebody who looks like they might be skilled in delivering child care, but all the volunteers are busy helping other children. With a certain amount of trepidation he turns his attention back to the girl and sees that she’s tugging at her swim cap, her face contorting with pain each time she tries to pull it off.

Michael tentatively kneels down so he’s at the girl’s eye level “Stop pulling it” He instructs forgetting the language barrier. The girl looks at Michael with wide, imploring eyes but she doesn’t stop tugging on her cap, and when two tears slip down her cheeks Michael gently places his hand over hers to get her to stop.

He holds his hand up “Wait” he instructs giving her a smile which he hopes is both reassuring and indicative of competence. He carefully slides his fingers under the front of her cap easing it forward so that it’s not clinging to her hair.

“Okay. Try again” He tugs the edges of the cap up to mime taking it off and between the two of them they manage to get it off her head with relative ease. She looks up a Michael with something approaching awe and then she gives him one of the most dazzling smiles he’s ever seen, which is really saying something given that Michael uses Ryan as a benchmark.

The little girl skips across the deck to rejoin her friends. They gather around her and she whispers to them, covering her mouth with one hand and pointing to Michael with the other. A few seconds later everyone in her little group is giggling and waving to him.

Michael waves back, embarrassed, but when the group disperses and he shoves his hand back in his pockets he smiles, because, for the first time in his life he feels just a little bit like a superhero.

+

They’re somewhere over Venezuela when Michael clears his throat to get Drew’s attention.  Drew finishes up the sentence he’s typing before lowering the lid of his laptop and turning towards Michael.

“So, uh-” Michael realises he’s not really sure where to start “When do I have to go back next?” 

Drew chuckles “Don’t worry Mike, you’re off the hook for a about year this time”

 Michael nods and turns to looks out of the window, resting his chin in his hand. “What if I wanted to go back sooner?”

“ _Do you_?” Drew asks disbelievingly

Michael shrugs and does his best to seem nonchalant about the idea “Maybe”. He continues to watch the clouds go by and after a couple of minutes Drew reopens his laptop. Michael takes this as his cue to press ahead with his fledging idea before the moment gone and he loses his nerve forever.

“I dunno, it felt good yesterday and I was thinking like maybe the foundation could set up a programme out there to you know, promote swimming in the build-up to the Olympics” Michael is speaking faster than he’d ideally like to be “And…I could do more clinics just for…like without the cameras and stuff. Or something”

Michael kind of impressed that it only takes Drew a few seconds wipe the look of shock from his face and recover his professionalism.

“I’ll look into it for you Michael”

**Rio de Janeiro, November 2013 (Visit Five)**

Michael has something he needs to tell his mother.

A few weeks ago Ryan had suggested Michael take Debbie with him on his next Rio trip in order to soften a blow little. So earlier in the week his mother had been dutifully sat poolside once again, this time while Michael took a clinic, and true to form she had spent the majority of the session crying.

Michael would normally head home straight after a clinic, but on this occasion he’d tagged on a few extra days for sightseeing in the hope that the perfect opportunity for the potentially tricky discussion would naturally present itself.

It hadn’t. And now as they sit down to dinner together on their last night, Michael is wondering whether his mother will choose to focus her disappointment on what he’s says or the considerable amount of alcohol he’s about to consume in order to work up the courage to say it.

He he fiddles with his napkin while his mom orders her food, his face creased in concentration as he tries to recall Ryan’s advice on how to break it to her gently. He’s so lost in his thoughts that the waiter has to prompt him three times when it’s time for Michael to give his own order. When the waiter disappears his mom reaches across the table and squeezes his hand

“Michael, are you okay sweetheart?”

Michael sees the concern in his mother eyes and he panics. He forgets every single word of his carefully prepared speech explaining how happy he's feeling, and how important this is to him and how it isn't actually all that far away anyway.

“I’m moving to Florida” He blurts out. He slumps back into his seat feeling both relieved and guilty. Debbie puts down her glass of water down and eyes Michael steadily

“You haven’t done that already?”

 Michael blushes. The sum total of the number of days he’s spent in Baltimore since the Super Bowl comes in at well under a month.

“Well, you know, it’s like official now”

Debbie raises her eyebrows “And what is it that makes it official exactly?”

“Uh… telling you?”

She drops the principal act and smiles at him warmly "I’m really pleased. This is good for you Michael. Ryan’s good for you”

Michael smiles too and looks down at his plate “I know”

“So now that it’s ‘official’” Debbie air quotes “I assume you intend to finally relieve me of your dogs?”

Michael rolls his eyes “Yes Mom, Herman and Stella will be moving too.”

“Good” She pauses before adding “And you’ll visit” It’s a statement not a question.

“Of course Mom” Michael replies choking up just a little “All the time.

The waiter returns with their food, and they spend the majority of the meal discussing the trip and picking out their highlights from the last couple of days.

“I thought the kid falling off the diving board at the clinic was pretty funny” Michael offers after Debbie’s shared how surprised she’d been to feel so moved during their visit to Christ the Redeemer, given that as a family they aren’t particularly religious. (Michael wasn’t even remotely surprised, whenever there’s ever so much as a hint of an opportunity to get emotional about something he fully expects his mom to be all over it)

“Michael Fred!” Debbie scolds giving him a look of disdain.

“Sorry” Michael replies almost automatically “But like, he thought it was funny too, and it made all the other kids laugh and…I like it when they’re all having fun you know?” Debbie’s face softens and she smiles at her who pushes his food around his plate and avoids her eyes.

“You know it’s funny-” she muses “-I didn’t think I could ever be more proud of my baby boy than I was in Beijing, but seeing what you’re doing here with these clinics…” she starts to tear up a little “…back then I was proud of what you achieved but this week you’ve made me proud of who you’ve become”

Michael swallows around the lump in his throat. He’s had a lot of accolades thrown at him over the years but nothing’s ever come close to the knowing he’s made his mom proud.

“Thanks’s mom, it’s…I’ve guess I kind of surprised myself” Michael admits as the waiter returns to clear the table

“So, It’s been a wonderful trip Michael” Debbie summarises once the waiter has finished bustling around them “but don’t for a second think it gets you out of me bringing me back here for Olympics” She warms him

“I never thought it would”

“Good. Because I’m looking forward to it even more now that I’ll be cheering for my son-in-law”

Michael chokes on his beer “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Let’s just. Nobody’s….we’re just living together”

“For now” Debbie says in a tone that indicates the subject is not up for debate.  Michael shakes his head despairingly, but his mouth betrays him by curling into a smile as he pictures his knuckles turning white as he clutches his mom’s hand in the second before a ‘1’ appears on a giant electronic scoreboard next to PHELPS-LOCHTE, Ryan. He groans

“Oh god, there’s going to be crying isn’t there?”

 “Oh I’d have thought so” Debbie says agreeably “Although going by your display at the Super Bowl I’d say you’ll be doing most of it”

Michael pales slightly at the memory of the tears that had streamed down his face when his beloved Ravens lifted the Super Bowl trophy. He feels panicked for the second time that evening because what if the whole crying thing was genetic? If it is then he’s completely fucked for watching Ryan in Rio. He makes a mental note to sit Debbie and Ike together at the games, ideally in a different stand to him.

Debbie excuses herself to use the rest room leaving Michael on his own at the table. While he’s pursuing the desert menu his mind starts to drift and he gets to wondering whether anything will change now that he’s moving in with Ryan ‘Officially’.

It had all been so easy with so far. _Too easy._ The nagging doubt that’s been plaguing him over the last few months resurfaces again, and without anything or anyone to distract him Michael finds it harder to ignore.

The vivid contrast between his meticulously planned swimming career and the way he’s more or less stumbled into the life he’s living now has not escaped Michael. Setting up a swim school in Brazil and moving to Florida were never objectives that featured on any goal sheet, they were things that had just…happened.

And that shouldn’t be a problem, except that Michael isn’t someone who is accustomed to just letting things happen. As a post retirement experiment it’s worked out nicely for him so far, but he’s still unsettled by the random element of chance attached to his current situation. What if Ryan had picked the Ravens over the 49ers?  What if Chad had been first out of the locker room and had helped that little girl with her swim cap? The law of averages dictates his luck has to run out at some point and there’s a part of him quietly insisting that he’s eventually going to find himself in a place where he isn’t happy, with no idea how he ended up there and no plan to get out.

Over desert, Debbie tries to initiate a discussion about getting together during the upcoming holidays. She fills Michael in on the movements of his various family members and asks him about his own plans, but Michael is too preoccupied to contribute anything useful and the conversations peters out.

Debbie insists they walk back to the hotel rather than take a cab, she tells him she wants to make the most of the warm weather before returning to Baltimore, but Michael suspects her motives have more to do with his change in mood. They walk for about a block and a half in silence before Michael decides to pre-empt the inevitable probing questions.

 “Ryan wants kids” He says without preamble.

“Okay” Debbie says slowly. When Michael doesn’t offer any further explanation she prompts carefully “And you don’t?”

Michael sighs “It’s not that I don’t want them exactly. I mean… I’ve sorta always thought at some point I’d, you know” He bites his lip “But I thought I’d know when, like something would change and I’d feel ready, but I…I don’t”

 “But that’s okay Michael” Debbie reasons using the same measured voice Michael’s been hearing since the time he tried to quit swimming after just one lesson because he didn’t like getting his face wet “Just because you’re moving in with Ryan doesn’t mean you need to have your entire future all mapped out”

“Yeah, I know that” Michael concedes, albeit reluctantly “It’s just. I don’t want to end up having a kid just because it what comes next you know? Like after you move and in and get married and stuff. I keep thinking…” He closes his eyes for a second “I keep thinking we’ll have a baby just…because. And like, I won’t find out I’m a terrible father until it’s too late” Michael's voice cracks very slightly as he verbalise the fear that’s been growing in him since the ill-fated GodParent conversation.

“Oh Michael” Debbie whispers, squeezing his arm gently “Does Ryan know you’ve been worrying about this?”

Michael shakes his head vigorously “No he wouldn’t….Like, Ryan says his biggest fear’s not being a good dad, and it’s just… _insane_ ‘cause he’s so…” Michael can’t help but smile a little as he thinks about the way Ryan’s nephews’ faces’ light up every time their favourite uncle walks into the room “He’s a natural. But I. Like, I don’t have any younger siblings, so I don’t really…and Dad wasn’t, you know…so…I just don’t know if I’ll be any good at it”

While Debbie’s considering this her face starts to become a little pensive and she tightens her grip on Michael’s arm. Michael rolls his eyes

“Just tell me already”

“Tell you what?” Debbie asks, feigning innocence

“Whatever it is you’ve decided I need to hear but you’re worried I’m not going to like” Michael replies, matter-of-fact

“I wasn’t…” Debbie starts to protest. Michael raises his eyebrows and gives her a challenging look and she holds up her hands in defeat.  “Fine, fine. So here it is” She takes a deep breath and Michael braces himself for the onslaught “Michael, you’ve had such a blessed life, your sport has given you so much, but I think it’s also left you with an slightly skewed idea of way the world works outside the pool”

Debbie pats her son’s arm when the inevitable frown appears on his face

“You can’t prepare for having a child the same way you’d prepare for an eight gold medal Olympic campaign” She continues gently “Life doesn’t always give you the opportunity to practice first, and you’re not always going to feel ready when it’s time to take a big step”

As much as Michael hates to admit it he can see that his mother does have a point.  It’s not like he’s entirely unaware of how his all-consuming commitment to improving as an athlete had impacted, sometimes detrimentally, on the more universal aspects of growing up.

Right from the outset Bob had seen it as part of his remit to ensure Michael was prepared for every eventuality he might face as a swimmer. He had a habit on manufacturing problems, such as hiding Michael’s goggles, within the relative safety of the smaller meets so that Michael wouldn’t be fazed if the same situation presented itself on a bigger stage. It was an unconventional (or to use Ryan’s word, sadistic) approach, but one that had paid off literally in gold in the 200 fly in Beijing, a race which Michael basically had to swim blind after his goggles had filled with water.

But years of being conditioned to be ready for whatever the pool could throw at him had fed Michael’s inner control freak to the point where he now had a tendency to pull back from any situation that had the potential to mutilate into something he couldn’t plan for.

“I’m just…I hate doing stuff when I don’t know how it’s gonna turn out” Michael admits

Debbie gives him a knowing smile “Well that’s not entirely true, is it?” At Michael’s puzzled expression she explains “You’re moving to Florida, even though you can’t guarantee your relationship with Ryan will work out the way you want it to”

 Michael frowns “Yeah but it’s not like…I have thought this through” He says defensively, slightly missing the point “And like, there’s stuff I worry about. Baltimore’s home, I don’t really _want_ to leave…but I love Ryan. He’s worth the risk, you know”

Debbie gives Michael a pointed look but says nothing further, instead opting to allow him some time to reflect on his own words.  It’s a course of action that reminds Michael why he still continues to seek out his Mother’s advice first when he’s struggling with something – she’s always preferred helping him find his own answers over giving him a lecture.

When they reach their hotel Debbie diverts Michael away from the entrance and towards one of the benches in the garden out front. They sit down and she takes hold of both of his hands.

“Michael, if the idea of being a father genuinely does not appeal to you, that’s okay” She assures him sincerely  “But if you don’t have a child because you fretting over not being able to control every detail of being a parent, I worry you’ll look back and regret your decision”

Michael squirms at the bluntness with which his mother calls it, and for a second he looks every inch the guilty seven year old caught trying to hide his Speedo before his second swimming lesson. Debbie smiles at him affectionately 

“I know it isn’t easy for you but just try and take things one step at a time, you’re still only twenty eight, you’re much too young to be closing any doors just yet”

Michael manages to bite back a smile and look at his mom with indifference “If that’s your latest pitch to get me to change my mind about 2016 then your technique could use a little wor- OW”

He glares at her while reaching for the back of his head and rubbing at the spot she’s just smacked. Debbie glares straight back with a look that’s devoid of any sympathy.

“And of course you’ll find there are some things which you’re never going to get too old for”

 

**Gainesville, October 2014**

“Happy anniversary”

Ryan straightens up from loading the dishwasher looking panicked “Umm… _Yes_ ”He says emphatically, his voice carrying a  level of conviction that isn’t mirrored in his face. Michael rolls his eyes

“We’ve been married for a month” He explains

“Really?” Ryan look doubtfully at his wedding band “Seems longer”

“I got you a gift” Michael says through gritted teeth “But if you think I got the date wrong maybe I should-”

“Nuh uh. Ryan shuts his eyes tightly and holds out his hands “Gimme” Michael sighs and grabs Ryan by his wrists, pulling him through to the living room. He points at the sofa.

 “Sit” he instructs. Ryan obeys and looks up at Michael like an eager puppy

“Um…Okay” Michael hesitates and curses himself for not preparing what to say in advance “So this is kinda. Like it’s not really just for you…It’s for both of us I guess”

Ryan smirks and sinks deeper in the couch “Jeahhhhh” He winks at Michael who shoots him a withering look.

 “No, it’s not…” Frustrated, Michael pulls out the envelope he’d stashed in the back pocket of his jeans. He balances himself on the edge of coffee table in front of Ryan and hands it over “Here, just open it” He says, sounding defeated. Ryan regards the envelope with suspicion

 “If it’s Ravens tickets I’m filing for divorce”

“Trust me, it’s something you want”

 Ryan pulls a single sheet of paper from the already open envelope. He unfolds it and his brow furrows “You got me a doctor’s appointment?”

Michael swallows and grips the edge of the table “Uh, check the letterhead” He prompts

“The Baltimore…” Ryan blinks “The Baltimore Fertility Centre”

“Yeah”

“You made us an appointment” Ryan says without taking his eyes from the letter

“Yeah”

“Like I don’t even know what to…I didn’t think you’d.” Ryan finally puts down the letter and looks at Michael for confirmation “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be ready” Michael admits and then grimaces at the look on Ryan’s face “No wait, that’s not….” He holds up his hand and this time takes a minute to figure out what it is he wants to say before trying again “I just mean I feel like there’s a lot I don’t know yet”

“Like what sort of stuff?” Ryan asks tentatively. His eye flick between the letter and Michael like he’s worried Michael’s response will somehow talk the appointment out of existence.

“Well-” Michael casts his mind back to his brief foray into solo babysitting in search of specifics  “For starters, when a baby cries…how are you meant to tell if it’s just bored or like…broken?” The memories start coming thick and fast and he carries on without waiting for an answer “I can’t work the car seat. And I have no idea how hot the bath is supposed to be. Or the formula. And like every single time I change a diaper-”

“You’ve changed a diaper once Mike” Ryan points out

“One hundred percent of the times I changed a diaper-” Michael continues undeterred “-I’ve not been able to work out how the fuck your supposed to fold it and the clippy thing kept falling off and it’s like…you look at the baby and just can feel it judging you-” Michael’s voice is rising “-and then the dog comes in and starts barking and you drop the lotion and the baby starts crying-”

“No cloth diapers” Ryan cuts in with a promise before Michael can start hyperventilating “We can get the disposable kind”

“Disposable diapers” Michael repeats slowly “Okay, fuck” He makes himself push the diaper trauma to one side so he can get back to the matter at hand. “So, yeah, _clearly_ there’s a whole lot I don’t know. But I do know I want this” He twists his hands together and then look up at Ryan with a shy smile “Like.. a lot, actually. And so I figure we can work out the other stuff as we go right?”

Ryan leans over and feels Michael’s forehead with mock concern “Dude did you forget to take you malaria tablets the last time you went to the jungle?”

Michael scowls “Fuck off Ryan. For one thing Rio is not the jungle dude, and like also…could you maybe not take the piss when I’m like…growing or whatever?”

“I’m sorry” Ryan replies with a sincerity that Michael that expecting “Seriously though Mike, this is….like I know we said we’d talk about the baby thing again after the wedding and stuff but like, it wasn’t like an ultimatum. If you’re still not sure-”

“But I am sure” Michael says looking Ryan dead in the eyes “And the rest is… details, which, yeah…not having everything all figured out is a kinda hard for me, but like. The last time I felt like this was just before I decided to move here. And then this happened” Michael holds up his left hand and wiggles his fingers, giving Ryan a lopsided grin “-and we’ve made it a whole month now, or longer depending on who you ask, so…”

Ryan pulls Michael off the coffee table and onto his lap “I like this impulsive streak” He decides, pulling Michael’s jaw down so he can kiss him “Or at least…you know this carefully thought out, tried and tested attempt at an impulsive streak you’re going for” He ignores Michael’s half-hearted attempt to shove him away in favour of kissing his way down his neck before stopping abruptly to add “but fuck, don’t change your mind about cage diving”

Michael puts his hand over his heart “No cage diving” he promises solemnly, rolling off Ryan’s lap to sit next to him on the couch, He picks up the discarded letter and folds it carefully before placing it back in the envelope.

“So uh, I don’t know if you noticed or not but the appointment’s next week” He shoots Ryan a sideways glance “You think you’ll be okay to skip a few days training?”

“ _Next week_?” Ryan exclaims “Fuck MP. When you decide you want something you really go all in”

“It' supposed to be the best clinic in the Baltimore and it’s got a huge waiting list, but they had a cancellation.” Michael explains “I figured Maryland over Florida, because the state law’s better for gay parents, and like we can stay in my old place when we have appointments and also right after the baby’s born and I’ve sounded mom out already and she’ll definitely be retired by then so she’ll be around to help out if we…what?” Michael trails off when he catches Ryan shaking his head and chuckling

“Um, it kinda sounds like you’ve worked out _some_ of the details there MP”

Michael blushes “Yeah well, like I said…I really want this, so…”

Ryan climbs over Michael so he’s straddling his lap. He rests their foreheads together “I got a present for you too by the way”

Michael rolls his eyes “Dude, Don’t even. You had no idea what day it was until I told you. You suck at being married”

 Ryan pouts “You want your present or not?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure”

Choosing to ignore Michael’s ambivalence Ryan places his mouth against Michael’s ear and whispers “Trust me, this is something you want” He rests his hand at on top of Michael’s thigh, working it in slows circles while he kisses his way down Michael’s neck.

“So like, your plan is to just use sex to score husband points every time you fuck up?” Michael bitches even though he’s already tilting his head back further to give Ryan better access.

“Yeah” Ryan’s widens the arc he’s making in with his hand, timing it so his fingers sweep over Michael’s crotch just as he pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Michael’s breath hitches “Yeah” he agrees nonsensically against Ryan’s mouth. Ryan immediately pulls back and shakes his head with a grin

“So easy” He teases

“So hot” Michael counters, sliding his hands underneath Ryan’s shirt and up across his chest. Ryan stands up and pulls his shirt over his head. 

“You like your gift?” He asks, undoing his belt and wriggling out of his jeans and underwear in one action. Once he’s naked he looks at Michael and gestures up and down the length of his body “I worked hard on this for you”

“I can see that” Michael says appreciatively. He holds out his hand “C’mere” Ryan takes a step forward and sinks down onto his knees, straddling Michael’s lap again.

“So many clothes” He laments before he tugs Michael’s shirt off. He runs his hands across Michael’s shoulders and down his arms and then slides them across to his waist to follow the curve of his hipbones down to where they meet his sweats

“What do you want me to do baby?” Ryan asks in a low voice, slipping his hand under Michael’s waist band to palm him through his underwear.

Michael’s been painfully hard since way before Ryan started touching him and he feels like he only has one choice “Blow me”

Ryan’s hand stills and he looks at Michael with surprise “ _Really_?”

“Yeah” Michael grinds his hips against Ryan, frustrated by the lack of attention being paid to his dick ‘Cause the lube’s  _fuck-”_  Ryan changes his grip making Michael arch up off the couch into his hand “-upstairs. S’far” He gasps.

Ryan leans forward and kisses Michael, sliding their lounges together. “Don’t worry MP” He says, sitting up and scanning the shelf on the opposite wall “I got this” He climbs off Michael and returns seconds later with, _inexplicably,_ a book.

Michael starts to sit up “What the fuck are you gonna-” He stops talking when Ryan lifts the cover and pulls a small tube from inside the hollow in his ‘book’

Michael raises his eyebrow “Do all your books do that?” He asks leaning back on his elbows “’Cause it does kinda explain why you sometimes don’t seem all that smar…well read”

Ryan stops opening the lube and folds his arms across his chest “It’s like you don’t even want to get laid”

Michael responds by sitting up and grabbing the tube out of Ryan’s hand. He holds Ryan’s gaze as he pulls the cap off with his teeth and pours the liquid over Ryan’s fingers. Ryan pushes against Michael chest until Michael’s lying flat on his back and then he’s crying out as Ryan deftly works him open. When Ryan finally decides he’s ready he pulls his fingers out and starts to lean down and Michael’s hips rise automatically to meet him. Ryan take hold of Michael’s legs, spreading them even further and Michael closes his eyes and tenses his body anticipation. 

 “I love you so fucking much”

Michael’s eye fly and he just stares at Ryan as he runs his thumb over Michael’s jaw and smiles. Michael opens his mouth but before he can even get a word out Ryan pushes inside him and his response becomes an incoherent string of sounds with Ryan’s name and God’s name thrown in occasionally for good measure.

Ryan finishes first and after giving himself just a few seconds to recover he takes Michael into his mouth.  Ryan’s hands rest on Michael’s hips but he's not really applying any pressure and he doesn’t even try to stop Michael from fucking his mouth. It only takes a couple of thrusts before Michael’s pushing Ryan’s head away to stop himself coming right down his throat. 

Ryan kisses his way up Michael’s chest up and lays his head down next to Michael’s on the arm of the couch.

“Happy birthday baby” He mutters sleepily

 Michael drops his head to the side so he’s facing Ryan “Anniversary”

“hmmmm?” Ryan nuzzles his face into Michael’s neck

“It’s not my birthday” Michael explains patiently “It’s our anniversary”

“Shit yeah” Ryan scrubs a hand down his face “When’s your birthday again?”

Michael rolls on to his side and wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist

“Not telling” He presses his lips against Ryan “I kinda like it when you forget”

 

 

**Gainseville, July 2016**

 

“Hey”

Michael jumps. His hand stays frozen in place on the light switch while his eyes dart towards the source of voice. He lets out a low shaky breath once he’s established that the figure hunched over his kitchen table is not an intruder, but when the initial wave of relief has passed he remains very much on edge.

“Jesus Ry, you scared the shit out of me” Michael scowls and deliberately throws his back pack on the table with more force than necessary so that Ryan flinches when it lands inches from his face.

“Sorry” Ryan says without looking up

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Michael asks irritably, still bristling from the shock.

“Couldn’t sleep”

“Sucks” Michael mutters, too annoyed to be anymore sympathetic.

“Good flight?” Ryan asks mildly.

“S’alright” Michael stretches yawns and stretches his arms out “Ugh. Hungry though, you wanna sandwich?”

“I’m fine”

Michael frowns. The fact that Ryan’s sitting alone in the dark at close to 2am is in itself a fairly decent indication that he isn’t _fine_ and Michael thinks he should probably pushing the issue, but Ryan’s unexpected presence has unnerved him and really he just want to keep this conversation as brief as possible.

He is however at the mercy of his stomach and going to bed hungry is not an acceptable option. He routes through the extensive collection of expired products in the fridge, selecting sandwich ingredients on the basis of what he hopes will be least likely to kill him. When he’s done in the fridge he pulls a knife out of the cutlery drawer and turns his back to Ryan to set about assembling the sandwich on the worktop.

“How’s your mom doing?” Ryan inquires up just as Michael’s about to cut the finished product in half.

Michael hesitates “She’s good”

“Yeah, it sounds like they’re having a good time in Chicago” Ryan agrees

Michael feels his blood run cold. His hand is shaking as he sets the knife down on the counter without cutting the sandwich.

“She told me to let you know you’re on your last warning by the way” Ryan continues conversationally “Apparently she’s left more than one voicemail on your cell. Dude, that’s not cool. Call your Mom, jeah?”

Michael braces himself against the counter keeping his back to Ryan. “Did you-”

“Tell her I had no fucking clue where her son was because he told me he was in Baltimore visiting his Mom? No.”

Michael closes his eyes and almost whispers “It’s not what you think”

“ _Fuck_ ”  

Ryan’s bleak assessment presses home the urgency of the situation and Michael suddenly moving across the kitchen at speed

“Ryan, It’s not what you think” Michael repeats more forcefully. He sits down in the chair opposite Ryan and reaches out to where Ryan’s hands lay clasped together in front him but Ryan pulls them back and Michael’s hand hits the table top. 

“Where were you this weekend Michael?”

“Baltimore”

“You fucking-”

“I _was,_ Ryan-” Michael pulls his backpack towards him by its strap. He digs his boarding card out of the front pocked and pushes it across the table to Ryan “See?”

Ryan picks up the stub and examines it carefully for a long moment “Doing what?” he finally asks

“Foundation stuff” Michael replies quickly. He’s stunned as well as vaguely appalled at how easily the response comes to him. Ryan’s looks at Michael for the first time since he got home with eves that are cold and narrow

“All weekend?” He asks incredulously

“Well no, not twenty four seven, _obviously_ , but for most of it, yeah. We’re doing a big campaign this summer” Michael reminds Ryan “And there’s a whole bunch of last minute stuff to get done” It’s more or less plausible and they both know it, the question is whether or not Ryan trusts himl enough to except his justification at face value. Michael only realises he’s holding his breath when he starts feeling light headed almost a full minute later

“But...” There are deep creases in Ryan’s forehead and for the first time in the conversation he sounds unsure of himself “When I asked about your mom you said-”

“You asked how she’s _doing_ dude” Michael confidence grows as Ryan’s lessens and it becomes easier to think of his feet “I told you. Like it’s late and you’ve gotta be up at five. I figured you didn’t want the long version”

“Which would be what exactly?”

Michael sighs and in an attempt to commit to his position as the misunderstood party, even tries to look a little hurt “I’d already planned to be in B’more for the foundation anyway but I didn’t tell Mom I was coming  ‘cause I thought I’d surprise her, you know, try and cheer her up a bit? I totally forgot she was out of town ‘til I showed up at her house and then…like she’s been having such a hard time since Whit moved. I didn’t tell her where I was ‘cause I didn’t want to spoil their visit”

Ryan nods. He picks up the boarding card between his finger and thumb and repeatedly taps it against the edge of the table as he turns it round in a slow methodical pattern “Makes sense, I guess”

It’s all a bit too easy and Michael’s left feeling like he’s missed something. Cautiously he stands up and holds his hand out to Ryan “Let’s go to bed babe”

Ryan keeps turning the boarding round without acknowledging Michael’s suggestion.  Eventually it slips from between his fingers and lays his hands flat on the table and looks up.

 “We’re not okay are we?”

Michael’s heart starts to beat faster and he has to fight to keep his voice even “Look Ry, I’m sorry for…whatever. But, like, I explained. It was the-”

“It’s not just…” Ryan shakes his head looks down at his fingers splayed against the table “It’s not just this. You’ve been pulling back from me for a while now”

It’s not Ryan’s words but the resignation in his voice that fills in Michael’s earlier blank. It had been easy to explain everything away because Ryan had made it easy; he’d never really been looking for the fight in the first place.

“Dude. Like, I don’t…where is this coming from?” Michael asks as he retakes his seat.

“You’re never fucking here anymore” Ryan mumbles.

“Neither are you” Michael counters, the intense pre-Olympic schedule of training camps, warm up meets and then trials had made it relatively easy to keep stuff hidden from Ryan over the past few months.

“When you’re on your cell-” Ryan carries on as though Michael hasn’t spoken “-and you hang up as soon as you see me and act super casual…which is just… and then-” Ryan’s voice climbs “-since the baby-”

Michael’s head snaps up. “You need to stop” He interjects angrily, his mind spinning at the speed of the switch from defence to offence “That’s not fucking fair. _You_ were the one that wanted to stop a year ago-”

“But you didn’t” Ryan insists “You talked me round. And then you…” Ryan looks at Michael imploringly for the explanation that will complete the sentence until Michael can’t stand it anymore and he casts his eyes down to the floor.

Away from the intense scrutiny of Ryan’s gaze Michael’s able to clear his head a little. He makes a decision and sets his jaw – he is not going to do this now. He has a plan for when and how he’s going to tell Ryan and it doesn’t feature any middle of the night confessions with just weeks left before Rio.

Michael never wanted to hurt Ryan. He hadn’t gone looking for this. In fact, if six months ago if he’d been asked to put money on one of them doing something like this he’d have picked Ryan. Maybe it’s just that Ryan’s wears his heart on his sleeve in a way that Michael never has, but of the two of them Ryan is the one that obviously hasn’t been happy for a while.

Michael’s not sure when he started equating not hurting Ryan with not hurting his chances in Rio, but somehow offsetting the secrets, half truths and sneaking around against gold medals and world records made Michael feel like what he was doing wasn’t all that bad. Until now.

“Yeah okay, you’re right. We should talk” Michael admits “But… not yet. Rio-”

Ryan closes his eyes “I don’t give a shit about Rio.” He spits and Michael knows he both does and doesn’t mean it in equal measure.

“Well I do” Michael tells him “I love you Ry, and I’m sorry but I’m not about to start fucking with your head this close to the biggest meet of your life”

Ryan sighs “Michael…” He begins, but he looks exhausted and he can’t quite seem to summon up the energy to finish

Michael get ups and walks round the table stopping behind Ryan’s chair. He places his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and squeezes gently “Ry, We’re okay. I promise” He crouches down and rests his head on Ryan’s shoulder, kissing his cheek “You’ve just gotta trust me”


End file.
